


gotta try it

by tysunkete (aozu)



Series: log(minus 1) anthology [7]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Embarrassment, Gyms, M/M, Nosebleed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 04:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12904146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aozu/pseuds/tysunkete
Summary: “I came to the gym to work out but holy god I can’t stop watching you do one armed push ups that’s so hot” AU.Shameless muscles appreciation. That’s it. That's the fic.





	gotta try it

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written: 02/05/2015.

If Lavi wants to be honest, he doesn’t like going to the gym. Gym memberships are _expensive_ ; and whenever he has deadlines (which are annoyingly often) he definitely does not go enough times to make the price worthwhile. But, he has to admit, it is a lot more comfy than exercising in the open weather where it’s prone to cold gusts and rain. Another reason is that he isn’t really good at a lot of the gym machines—he’s almost ashamed to admit he only uses one, the treadmill, because he can’t seem to get the hang of lifting weights or whatever. It’s a rather love/hate relationship to keep fit, it does give him something to do when he’s bored, and so on a particular random Thursday evening when he’s decided too many words have been read in the past five hours, he heads off towards the gym.

It’s methodical in the changing room—the search for an open locker, taking out his change of clothes and dumping his stuff in—as it should be, but for some reason today his hand pauses on the hinge on an empty locker and his gaze is affixed to his right.

He doesn’t even realise he’s staring at first.

He’s never seen skin that _smooth_ , stretching taut over well-defined abdominal muscles that are chiseled like some Greek god statue. From his angle he can see the curve of the back dipped low, muscles flexing with some arm movement that makes the view even better in the next few seconds. Beads of sweat slide down a collarbone down the toned chest inked with some kind of dark symbol on the right—Lavi follows that water trail right down to the sharp edges of the hipbones—

The sudden slam of the locker makes him jolt in shock, and he snaps his gaze up to see a dark expression on the most beautiful face he’s ever seen. He doesn’t think anything registers in his head, watching dumbly when the other person with eyes of the darkest shade of navy and long hair tied at the nape sends him a suspicious frown before whipping the towel in his hand over his shoulder and walking away towards the showers, bare torso-ed.

Lavi swallows vaguely and blinks rapidly, turning back to face his empty locker.

Right. Okay. His hands are trembling and he doesn’t know why. He ignores that and fumbles into his change of clothes, getting to the treadmill just as planned.

Just as planned.

Just as planned, _not_.

Lavi doesn’t know why he’s back at the gym the next day two hours earlier than yesterday—he usually doesn’t go in consecutive days, besides, the next episode of _Elementary_ is out today. The changing room is void of people when he enters, and he finds the same locker he used yesterday to put his stuff in. He feels a bit nervous as he steps into the workout room, casting his glance around for a bit but due to his lack of vision range from the one eye, it feels even more obvious about what he’s trying to do. He gets to the treadmill by habit, and just glances to his right absentmindedly. He looks back to the treadmill machine, where he’s in the mid of keying in his preferred settings and then nearly strains his neck muscles when he shoots his gaze back to his right.

On the mat there is that same guy he saw yesterday in the locker room half-naked, wow is that not creepy at all, and the guy (in a sleeveless shirt this time) is stretched horizontal on the floor with one arm pushing himself up in rhythmic counts; Lavi can see those arm muscles flexing at such a ridiculous clarity, the clench and unclench, and it’s only when the person suddenly breathes in deep and does the _slowest_ one arm push up he’s ever seen in his life—that kind of muscle control, what the _fuck_ —that he actually chokes in his throat. The other cocks his head up at the noise and Lavi hopes to god that their gazes didn’t catch when he whips to stare back at his treadmill machine with great intensity.

He guesses that’s why some people love to do muscle training or toning, but what the hell, nobody is supposed to look _that_ hot while doing it.

He hastily jabs some buttons on the machine to get it start just so it feel less like he came here to stalk someone than to actually work out—the first few steps he makes even feels a little shaky, and he already feels like he’s run out of breath before even doing anything. Lavi realises at this moment that he might be a bit too interested in someone saw for like, 20 seconds.

The next five minutes are _excruciating_ —he wants to glance over and see what’s happening on the other side, but the person is facing in his direction so if he looks, it’s too obvious. When the timer on his machine hits the nine minute mark, his self-control snaps.

He looks over—and the person isn’t on the mat anymore. Disappointed, he cranes his neck further to see where the beauty has gone. The other is really easy to spot with the long tail of hair, but even without that Lavi’s pretty sure he’d be able to notice him anyway; the other is doing one armed pull ups at the pull up bar, body straight and movements smooth, not even with a hint of struggle.

What the _fuck_.

One, two, three, four…that’s just fucking _ridiculous_ —but Lavi doesn’t get to finish that thought, because the next thing he registers is the world view flipping around and a blunt pain smashing into his nose. He lies stunned for a second before the noise filters in.

One of the gym members around hovers over him uncertainly. “Dude, are you okay?”

Lavi blinks, wincing when a dull throb started to set in at the bridge of his nose, and he touches it, hands come away bloody. “Oh shit. Ow. Ow, shit, it kind of hurts now.”

“Hey, anyone got some tissue? Or ice?”

Quick footsteps hurry over courtesy from a gym employee, and some ice-cold cloth is pressed to his face. Lavi makes a muffled noise of discomfort and tries to tell the kind stranger and the employee that he’s fine, it was just an accident, but in between that his eye tracks the movement of the long haired beauty who has wandered over to another side. His nose throbs again in pain and he can’t breathe properly—with good reason, this time—so he decides to get back to the locker room.

He sits on the benches facing the locker and sighs for moment before fishing out his phone.

“Lenalee,” he greets. “Could you, uh, go to the store and get some ice for me?”

“Dude,” an amused snort comes from the other line. “What did you do?”

“Why must you assume—“ his voice sounds pretty nasal, and it’s actually hard to huff. “I didn’t do anything! I just…I tripped and fell and my nose really hurts, so please?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the gym?”

“I am at the gym. I’m coming back soon though.”

“It’s fifteen minutes past four. What did you trip on in fifteen minutes?”

“Lenalee,” he whines. “Are you judging me? Why are you judging me?”

“Is this about the hot guy you saw yesterday—“

“Lenalee—“

“So it is.”

“ _Lenalee_ ,” he stresses, gripping his phone tight. “What the fuck, this guy is not real, I am telling you. What the actual _fuck_ —“ he hisses, voice hushed. “He was doing one armed push ups, I mean, fine, that’s pretty impressive and he’s fucking hot so of course it was awesome but then, but then he went for pull up bar and what the actual fucking hell he was doing them _one-handed_ , how, _how_ does anyone do that and look like it’s a fucking supermodel photoshoot?! I don’t understand—”

“I see why you tripped over air,” Lenalee states blandly. “I’ll get some ice, but in return, I want a picture. I am so curious how this guy actually looks like.”

Lavi frowns. “How am I supposed to get a picture of him?”

“You’re the stalker, figure it out,” Lenalee says sweetly before hanging up the line.

Lavi sighs when the dial tone meets his ears. A picture? Sure he’d love to get one, but there’s no way he can go back there with his phone while pressing the cloth over his face. Maybe he can wait here and pretend to text or something, and if the guy shows up maybe, just maybe he can get a quick shot—

“Don’t you fucking dare take a picture.”

The guy in question stands barely three paces away from him and he yelps so hard that his phone slips out of his hand and clatters on the ground.

“I-I—I…” he stutters, because _holy shit_ did the other hear everything he just said?

It was time to dig his grave, good bye world.

“I wasn’t…going to…” he mumbles eventually, trying to hide most of his face with the cloth.

It must be the effect of blood rushing to his face in humiliation, because the blood flow from his nose seems to pick up again, and he hastily dabs at it, cursing a little when some of it tracks onto his shirt. There’s a cluck of the tongue and an exasperated sigh before the other guy suddenly takes the three steps between them and sits next to him. Lavi nearly bites his tongue clean off when the other yanks the cloth and refolds it before pressing it over his nose at a different angle than before, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Lavi yowls a bit in pain, but the firm hold doesn’t relent.

“Fucking idiot. Hold it there or it won’t stop bleeding,” the other orders.

Lavi stills immediately. He doesn’t know what to say, not with the other so close that his gaze wanders over the perfect complexion and structured cheekbones and the lips and down the pale neck and the—

He makes another pained sound when the other abruptly lets go of his hold and stands up to cross back to his locker.

“…Thank you,” he tries to say as clearly as he can with his nose covered.

The other doesn’t even cock his head back to acknowledge the gratitude.

“So, um, what’s your—…”

His voice dies the moment the other absentmindedly yanks his sleeveless shirt over his head, the fabric giving way to that sculpted bare body in full view of appreciation. As the other’s arms move to take his towel and toiletries, the back muscles also move in tandem. The long haired man glances at him briefly with a scowl before disappearing towards the showers without another word, but…Lavi swears he sees just a peek of a smirk before the other turned away.


End file.
